


when the hairpins start to drop

by mozartspiano



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Growing up in the GTA and feeling nostalgic for summers past AU, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozartspiano/pseuds/mozartspiano
Summary: Nick has had a crush on William Nylander since the day she babysat for him when he was eight and she was thirteen and she was wearing bubblegum pink lip gloss and her hair reached down to her waist and Nick's stomach fell so hard he felt it in his feet.Even now, seeing her is like walking into a brick wall.
Relationships: William Nylander/Nick Robertson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	when the hairpins start to drop

**Author's Note:**

> title from lorde's white teeth teens

Nick has had a crush on William Nylander since the day she babysat for him when he was eight and she was thirteen and she was wearing bubblegum pink lip gloss and her hair reached down to her waist and Nick's stomach fell so hard he felt it in his feet. 

Even now, seeing her is like walking into a brick wall.

The fading light of summer is coming in through the screen door, where smoke and summer heat drifts in and leaves a smattering of sweat over the skin of Nick's arm. He can stop staring at her, still way too gorgeous, standing in Sandy's kitchen with a red cup and a ping pong ball in one hand. Her smile reaches across her face, white and wide. 

"Nicky," Sandy calls, gesturing him over to the counter near William. She's mixing rum into a jug full of frozen juice concentrate. "Can you tap in for me? I have to go get wine out of my mom's bath mat."

"Tap in?"

"Saaandy." Nick is hyper aware of William, the way her shirt clings to her soft hips, the glasses on her nose, her voice pitched low. "I need my partner."

"Nicky will be your partner," Sandy says and -

"What-"

"Nicky," William says and holy shit. Nick blinks up at her twice. "Little Nick Robertson all grown up, aww."

Oh. 

"That's me," he says. He sticks his nose in his own cup, takes a sip. The drink tastes like piss. He can't wait until he's in college for real and doesn't have to drink the shit stuff that Sandy's brother leaves behind when he comes home for the weekend. 

"Hmm," William says. She squints down at him then grins. "You'll do."

Nick actually fucking rocks at beer pong. He won the championship they had over the summer at Lily's cottage. Once he's got a beer or two in him he's pretty invincible. There is video evidence of him crushing the pong.

Not that it matters. Because Willy's in a pair of jean shorts and her legs are long and golden. She has a flannel shirt tied around her hips and a backwards snapback over her hair and Nick can't stop - staring.

"Sorry," he says, while William chugs her third drink after Sandy's neighbour Dermy and his boyfriend Hollsy sink them easily. "I'm usually not this shit. I promise."

"It's a good thing you're cute," she says.

They lose. Nick barely notices because William touches his shoulder, hanging her elbow around the back of his neck. She's hot against his side, shit talking Dermy, and Nick's mouth is dry dry dry. 

All the beer means he has to pee, desperately. The bathroom on the main floor has a long line out of it but best friend privileges dictate that Nick can ditch that. He sneaks upstairs and through to Sandy's parents ensuite. He catches his reflection on the way out of the bathroom. His nose is flushed, pink, skin warm. 

The party is still in swing when he climbs back down the stairs. It's a weird mix, college kids back before everything kicks off and high school graduates mourning their last summer together. 

Nick swipes some of Sandy's rum concoction and tries to cool his cheeks.

There's hardly anyone out on the porch when he goes out a few minutes later, hoping the fresh air will bring him back to earth. A cluster of girls are sitting on the porch swing, laughing, and then on the steps down is - 

"Willy," Nick says. 

She turns. Her smile looks different in the streetlights. "Hey partner."

He takes a seat next to her. She's turning her cell phone over and over in her hands. 

"So," she says, after he's thought of a hundred different things to say and stared at his feet instead. "You just graduated right?"

"No," he says. "Last year. Um, I took the year off. Worked at my dad's company."

"Oh. That's cool."

"I'm going to UTM." Nick pulls at the laces of his shoes. If he looks up at William's face he'll stumble and say something dumb. "Forensic science."

"Wow," William says. He looks up at her. She's so fucking pretty. "That's really cool, Nick."

"Thanks," and then, because she's pretty and he's an idiot, "Your hair looks nice like that." Shit. "Like - um. The cut. It's nice."

She touches the back of her head, where her hair brushes against her neck. As long as he's known of William Nylander she's had long blond hair past her waist. She used to french braid it to practice cross country around their neighbourhood and Nick would sit on his front lawn and pretend to be reading while he watched her run, her braids bouncing behind her, hands curled tight to her chest. 

Now, it's short and blunt, falling to her chin. 

"Thank you," she says. Her fingers twist the ends of it. "Spontaneous decision."

"Right."

They were never friends, of course not. He was too young and she was too pretty, everyone's answer to who they had a crush on at school. When she came back from university over the Christmas break and Nick had only just started high school, he helped her shovel her family's driveway once. He didn't speak at all, too shy by a mile, while she told him about Brock and St. Catharines and how gross the food in the residence cafeteria is.

"Seriously Nicholas," she told him. Her hair was tucked away in a thick braid down her back and there were snowflakes heavy on her eyelashes. "I survive off Domino's and bagels from Tim Hortons."

Now the summer heat was turning the hair by her ear dark with sweat. She pushed her hair back and fit her snapback over it. 

"It's weird to be back," she says, soft. 

"You graduated, right?"

She nods. "Yeah. In May."

Nick looks away from her face. She has a scar on her knee. There's a tattoo peeking out of her sock but he can't see the full image, just a black line curving outwards. 

"Nothing ever changes here," she says. She's looking at the electricity box at the end of Sandy's street and the sprinkler going on Mr. Cooper's lawn and the sycamore tree on Sandy's lawn that Nick fell out of when he was thirteen and sprained his wrist. "Everything is exactly the same as when I left it last year."

"Not everything," Nick says, feeling brave. He thinks about Sandy's mom coming out of the house to patch him up, driving him to the hospital. "I'm not the same."

William laughs. She has the best laugh. "Oh really."

"Really," he says. "I got my wisdom teeth out in the spring."

She laughs some more. It makes everything in Nick feel on fire, like when the boys would score one late during his days in bantam hockey. William's brother played hockey only a few years above Nick and sometimes he would see her at the rink where he skated, flirting with the stupid boys who worked the concession stands. 

"How silly of me," she says. "Clearly that calls for celebration."

William holds up her cup. Nick knocks his cup against it, gentle, and they both drink. He watches her as he does, can't stop himself, the way freckles gather across her nose and spill out onto her cheeks.

Behind them, the girls on the porch swing make a ruckus, one of them standing up and making the whole thing shake. Nick and William turn to watch them walk back into the house, laughing, kicking off their sandals at the door. 

"Are you staying here for the year?" Nick asks, once the porch is quiet, just the two of them.

"I guess."

"You guess? You don't know?"

William tips her face back. She's looking straight up, where there would be stars if they didn't live in Mississauga. 

"I was going to stay in St. Catharines," she says, slow, still not looking at him. Her arms come around her knees to hug them into her body. "But then some stuff happened and I had to get out of there. So here I am. I don't know what I'm going to do."

Nick doesn't know what to say. She looks over and then they're looking right at each other, her eyes big and blue, daydreams come to life. 

She was a good babysitter, the kind that would come over with the ingredients for cookies. She always helped them build a blanket fort in the living room and watch a movie inside it, all cuddled up with pillows. 

One night everyone else had fallen asleep but Nick was still awake. He pinched himself through the end of  _ Up _ because he didn't want to fall asleep, not when William was sitting at the other end of the couch, her hair piled up in a bun on top of her head. She smelled like peppermint and sweet flowers and she was always so nice to him when she caught him awake.

"You'll figure it out," Nick says. 

She blinks and then she's looking away. She bites into her bottom lip, gentle, and then - oh shit - 

"Shit," he says, quick, "Don't cry, please don't cry."

"Fuck," William says, brushing her fingers under her eyes. "Oh fuck."

He puts his hand on her shoulder and then she's leaning in and he's leaning in and then she's in his arms, head against his shoulder, and he's holding so still, holding his breath in his lungs. 

She still smells so sweet. 

"Sorry," she says, breathing in harshly. She pulls away and runs a hand across her face. Mascara has left smudges around her eyes. "Everything's just gotten so - fucked."

"That's okay."

"It isn't." If it were cold he would be able to see the breath as it left her mouth, would get to see it as she sighed into the heavy air. "It's my own fucking fault. I'm a fuck up."

"No you're not."

"I am. A huge fuck up."

"No," Nick says, and he knows he sounds like a stupid kid but he can't stop. 

"I kissed one of my professors," William says. She looks at Nick cutting, like she's daring him now. "Even though I know he's married. That's fucked up."

Nick doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what she wants him to say. 

William laughs and it isn't joyous. It's sad. "He told me that he's sorry for leading me on and that he wasn't interested in me like that and that - fuck. That I was a good kid." 

"He's crazy," Nick says and then, before he can stop himself, "I mean it's good he didn't kiss you back because like - the married thing. But. Still. He must be out of his mind."

"He isn't," William says, soft.

"He is. He must be. Because you're - you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my entire life."

The streetlight is dim. It casts shadows over William's face, where her skin flushes at Nick's words. 

"Sorry."

"No it's," she starts and then clears her throat. "It's okay."

He knows too, that she's always known he had a crush on her. Knows that he wasn't exactly subtle when he would leave one of the Valentine's Day cards his mom bought for him in the Nylander's mailbox, a Hershey's kiss taped to the front. Knows that she didn't buy it when he told her he was mowing everyone's lawn for free in the summer, not just her's, not just to be near her for an afternoon. 

He used to sit in his window on Friday nights and look across the street to see which boy would pick up William. He used to imagine himself there instead, taller and older and funnier and louder, someone worth her smile.

"I'm gonna get going," she says, standing up. He stands with her. Doesn't know what to do with his hands and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans. "Tell Sandy I said goodbye, alright?"

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

She smiles at that and then nods four houses away, to where the Nylander's neat house is nestled between two maples. "I think I'll make it by myself."

"Oh. Right."

William takes a step back and then, considering, sways to meet his eye again. She's taller than him, even just in flip flops. 

"You're commuting next year. Right?"

"Right."

"Huh," she says. Then, so casual he almost misses it, "You and I should hang out again sometime."

Nick opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it to say, "That'd be cool."

Her smile is a flash of light in the dark. "Cool."

"Cool."

William laughs. "Good night, Nick."

He waits until she's a few metres away to let his knees give out. Nick sits back on the porch and watches her cut across the yards to her house. Her hand reaches out to touch the bark of Mrs. Palmer's willow tree, where she used to lie under after her runs, stretched out in the shade and shaking from exhaustion. 

September creeps heavy over the summer air and Nick feels himself smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> idk u know? im [here](https://william-nylander.tumblr.com/)


End file.
